A Life Worth Living
by Gary Merchant
Summary: The Doctor arrives on the planet Vestos, and finds a dead body.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

He stared blankly ahead, his limbs shaking. He had been somebody once. But he couldn't remember who that someone was. In fact, he couldn't remember anything of significance, other than the fact that he was there to serve.

He took a few faltering steps in the bleak empty terrain, before falling to the ground. He couldn't remember falling.

So he wasn't aware that he was about to die.

Just a short distance away, the air shimmered as a square indentation settled into the ground. A form began to appear, accompanied by a strange sound that echoed through the air. Gradually the shape solidified into something resembling a London Police Box. The TARDIS had landed.

Stepping out from the craft, its occupant wore a green frock coat with black trousers. The red velvet shirt was open at the neck, the multi-checked waistcoat completing the ensemble. The clothes fitted a tall, slim figure with shoulder length fair hair. "So this is the planet Vestos. Well, I've seen better – and worse, come to that. So…"

Keen eyes fell on the fallen figure in the distance. The time traveller was beside the body in seconds, checking for any signs of life. "No external injuries, but the poor fellow seems done in." Hands were laid on the chest, face and throat. "No tissue displacement, so nothing resulting from a blaster or anything similar. Eyes - dull and lifeless, but may have been that way sometime before death. The face - pale. In fact, the whole state of the body, despite being well developed, suggests some form of malnutrition." There was puzzlement. "Age - no more than twenty years old, at least in Earth terms. But that doesn't equate with this after-death shaking of the limbs. Clothing - seems to be a soldier of some kind, so where are the rest of his troop? Why is he so far from home?"

"And what could have killed him?"

A city was spied on the horizon. "Well, whoever you are I think you must come from there. So I might as well do the decent thing." The body was gently hefted up from the ground, and was draped over the shoulder, in a variation of the fireman's lift. "Right. Let's see about getting you home." And the long journey to the city began.

It was just past the hour when the time traveller arrived in the city. People gathered around almost immediately, as the traveller gently laid the body to the ground. "Is there a Doctor of some description here?" The question was decidedly loud, in an effort to gain some attention.

After a brief moment a short, portly man pushed through the growing crowd. "I'm Dr Nassus. What… oh my word."

"Is he from here?"

"Yes, he was from our regiment. His name… his name was Arus. Where did you find him?"

The traveller pointed toward the distance. "Out there, maybe a couple of miles from here. I'm afraid he was dead when I found him, poor devil."

Dr Nassus quickly oversaw the delivery of the body to the medical wing, and the crowd dispersed. "Well, thank you for you help, err…" He paused, his attention now focussed on the visitor. "Excuse me Madam, but just who are you – what are you doing here?"

The young woman shrugged, brushing the dust from her coat. "I'm just a traveller. As for my name – well, I'm the Doctor."


	2. Invitations and Examinations

INVITATIONS AND EXAMINATIONS

Once the excitement had died down, the Doctor allowed herself a moment to take in her surroundings. The buildings were many, but of a basic design. The Vestosian people all wore tunics tied at the waist, with loose fitting slacks. While first impressions might have suggested them to be a simple race, the Doctor's brief conversation with Dr Nassus indicated a species of higher than average intelligence.

She found herself facing two young men. "Hello, and who might you be?"

The older of the two stepped forward reluctantly. "You brought in Arus."

"Yes, that's right." The Doctor paused. "Was he a friend?" They both nodded.

"Well, I'm the Doctor." She stretched her hand out to them and noted their confusion. "I take it you've never heard of a handshake before."

She gently took the older youth's hand, clasped it in hers, and demonstrated. "See? This is a handshake. It means that we're friends."

The younger one seemed fascinated. "Can I try?" He reached for the Doctor's other hand and shook it. Then, the last of their barriers breaking down, the two youths started to laugh, the Doctor also enjoying the moment.

Finally, all three disengaged themselves from each other, still grinning. The older of the two young men completed the introductions. "I'm Daron, and this is Ross."

"Well, I'm very pleased to meet you both," the Doctor smiled. Then she remembered. "A pity it wasn't under better circumstances."

"Can you stay for tonight's celebration?"

Daron's question caught the Doctor off-guard. "Er no, I don't know."

Ross nodded to his friend. "It's his twentieth year of birth," he explained.

She puzzled over the phrasing. "Twentieth year of… oh, a birthday party! Gosh, I haven't been to one of those in a long time."

"So will you come?" Daron asked.

The Doctor was sorely tempted. "But why me? I mean, you didn't even know me before today."

To Doran, the answer seemed obvious. "Because we like you."

She looked from one to the other. "Then I accept your kind invitation." She noted an officious looking person waiting to catch her eye.

Ross and Doran saw him at the same time. "That's the Secretary," Ross informed the Doctor. "Waiting to escort you to meet Cardinal Machalan, our protector."

"Ah." The Doctor smoothed down any non-existent creases from her coat. "Well, I'd better not keep him waiting." She turned to go, and then glanced back, still smiling. "See you both tonight."

Cardinal Machalan was dressed in long flowing robes of a vibrant dark blue. Perhaps not in the first flush of youth, he was a sprightly man, and had a keen interest in the Doctor's tale, as she explained her recent arrival and the events leading up to her delivering Arus to the city. "Well, I can only apologise for your unfortunate involvement in such a tragic situation," Machalan remarked.

The Doctor shrugged. "It's hardly your fault, Cardinal."

"Even so," Machalan continued, "I hope you will stay for a short while, and accept our hospitality, by way of thanks."

"Oh, I'd be glad to – I've already been invited to a twentieth year celebration for tonight."

"Ah, young Doran," the Cardinal noted. "A bright fellow. And Ross, too."

The Doctor leaned back in her chair. "I understand you're this city's protector."

Machalan chuckled. "I prefer to think of myself as an overseer. Our community is largely self-sufficient. We grow our own food, while our water comes from a nearby stream. I'm only a figurehead, really."

"Sounds like an idyllic lifestyle," the Doctor complimented. "I wouldn't mind a look around, just to get a feel of the place."

"We can arrange a guide," the Cardinal offered.

"The trouble with guides," the Doctor observed, "is that one only gets a brief glance. I like to get behind the glossy brochure, pick out the really interesting bits."

"I doubt that there would be much to interest you here, but please," Machalan offered, "feel free to explore."

"Thank you, Cardinal." The Doctor decided to broach a delicate subject. "About that poor fellow I brought in earlier. I'd like to attend his post-mortem, if that's possible."

A look of surprise fell across the Cardinal's face. "I hardly think such a request would be appropriate!"

"What exactly do you mean?" the Doctor asked, innocently.

"Well, I…" Machalan struggled to find the words without being condescending. "Because you're…"

"Because I'm a woman?" Machalan had been recognised the Doctor's keen intelligence, but he was now aware of a steely glint in her eyes, and realised his error.

She glared at the Cardinal. "Let me tell you, I've come up against death and destruction on a scale you simply cannot imagine. I have fought against oppression from Daleks, Sontarans and many more, just to ensure that the cosmos remains a safer place. So don't think about sparing my feelings, Machalan – just because I happen to be a woman."

Ever since her regeneration at Castle Tersurus, the Doctor had come to realise just how difficult it was for women in society throughout the universe. In her previous male incarnations, there had been virtually no problem in persuading those in authority to sit up and listen. But in this body, it was an unending struggle to be taken seriously.

For his own part, Machalan now knew that his initial assumptions about the Doctor had been wrong. "Believe me, I had no wish to offend," he said, backtracking. "If you wish to attend the post-mortem, then I shall arrange clearance for you."

There was still a hint of tension in the air, but the Doctor accepted the apology. "Thank you, Cardinal," she smiled. "Very much appreciated."

"So, what do you think?"

The Doctor and Nassus stared at the body on the slab. "Well, I have to agree with your initial findings," Nassus replied. "Apart from your opinions concerning malnutrition."

"I don't follow." The Doctor was curious.

"Well, given his general build and muscle tone, I can see no basis for your theory."

She couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. "But you must concede that there were no foodstuffs of any description inside his digestive system."

"Yes, but our soldiers have a strict regime regarding the intake of food," Nassus explained. "Special training and nutritional supplements cater for their needs."

The Doctor reached for the X-Rays, holding them up to the light. "Even so, one would still expect to find residual traces of these supplements in the stomach cavity." It was as though a steel shutter had dropped between them, as Nassus fell silent.

The Doctor noted the change in Nassus' manner. "Of course, I may be wrong," she suggested, changing tack. "After all, not all cultures ingest food in the same way." Still, Nassus would not be drawn.

"Perhaps we should agree to differ," she offered. "I'll leave it to you to write up the cause of death. He is your patient, after all."

"Thank you, Doctor," Nassus answered, at last finding his voice.

The evening was starting to draw in as the Doctor left the mortuary. It was clear that Nassus knew more than he was letting on, and their disagreements only served to raise further doubts in her mind.

Shaking off her concerns for the moment, the Doctor remembered that tonight was also a cause for celebration. She made her way to the rooms provided for her. Once suitably refreshed, she would be ready for the evening's entertainment.

In an underground chamber, an urgent conversation was taking place. "Once again, another casualty."

"Unfortunately yes, Commander. As far as I can tell, his physiognomy could not adapt to the final changes."

"I see." The Commander seemed to consider. "How many others have we lost in total?"

"Seventeen, Commander."

"Seventeen out of so many." There was regret in the Commander's voice. "But the losses have been contained, and are negligible."

"Except for the families concerned."

Now there was displeasure. "Do you seek to criticise our great work?"

"No, Commander. Only to state the facts, however unwelcome they may be."

There was reluctant agreement. "Very well. Inform the family of their sad loss, but avoid unnecessary detail. In time, their pain will ease."

"Very well." There was a hesitancy. "This woman, the Doctor – she could cause trouble."

"I appreciate your candour," the Commander noted. "But do not concern yourself. She cannot jeopardise the future of Vestos."

The conversation was at an end. As he left the Chamber, Dr Nassus wondered, not for the first time, just what the future held.


	3. Celebrations and Misunderstandings

CELEBRATIONS AND MISUNDERSTANDINGS

They certainly know how to have a good time, the Doctor mused, as she stood on the periphery of the Great Hall, taking in the Vestosian equivalent of a birthday party. Everyone was in high spirits, with some of the alcoholic kind more than likely to be consumed over the course of the evening.

Cardinal Machalan had seen the Doctor's arrival and stepped forward in greeting. "Doctor, welcome."

She returned the greeting. "Cardinal."

"I, er hope my earlier mishap…"

"Completely forgotten," she assured him. "I must say, I wouldn't have thought this was your kind of thing." They dodged past a nearby group who seemed intent on drinking as much as possible before the night was out.

Machalan smiled indulgently. "Well, usually I leave such merriment to the youngsters, but on these special occasions I am required to make a token speech of sorts."

"Really?" The Doctor was curious. "I would have thought speeches would be left to the parents."

"Parents?" The word was foreign to the Cardinal. "Oh, you mean the child bearers."

"I suppose so."

"In our society," he explained, "the children leave their… parents?" The Doctor nodded. "They leave their parents by their tenth year. In that way, we hope to instil responsibility at an early age, so that by the time they reach their twentieth year they will have become fully independent."

It was certainly an unusual way of living. "But are you saying that they have no further contact with their… child bearers?"

"Oh, far from it," Machalan replied. "Each family unit has as much contact as they wish. But we find that, over time, such contact is a growing rarity."

"Apart from tonight?" The Doctor indicated a couple at the far end of the room, clearly husband and wife. Despite the laughing faces surrounding them, there was no effort being made on their part to join in.

"Ah." The Cardinal hesitated. "They are – or were – Arus' kin. They insisted on attending," he added, seeing the Doctor's surprised look.

"But they've hardly had time to mourn, to grieve," she exclaimed.

Machalan spread his arms. "It is the way we respect the dead, by celebrating the living."

The Doctor could only shake her head in bewilderment.

The rest of the celebration progressed without a hitch. Machalan gave his obligatory words of thanks for Doran's birth, reminding him of how his future place in society was in his hands. It was a stirring speech, and the Doctor was moved to lead the applause as the Cardinal gave a respectful bow to Doran, and then departed, leaving the rest of the evening in the hands of the revellers.

"So what do you do, Doctor?" Ross was at her side.

She regarded the young man with interest. The age difference between him and Doran couldn't be that much, but apparently Ross' own celebration was some time away yet. "Me? Oh, I travel around in my trusty TARDIS, generally poking my nose in other people's business. Righting the occasional wrong."

Ross laughed. "It sounds fun."

She smiled. "I suppose it is, in its own way." She looked at him, wondering. "For someone who's celebrating his best friend's birthday, you don't seem very happy."

He shrugged. "Is it that obvious?"

She leaned closer to him. "Want to talk about it?"

Ross stared at her. She wasn't mocking or teasing him. He got the feeling that she really wanted to help. "Do you investigate things?"

"Sometimes."

"Because I – I…" The Doctor stared at him as he tried to form the words. Instead, his eyes bulged, his mouth gaping open, but no sound would come out. His whole body began to tremble.

She grabbed him by the shoulders, concerned. "Ross." She shook him. "Ross, what is it?" Some of the revellers turned at this unexpected disturbance. When Doran saw what was happening, he rushed to his friend.

A concerned crowd had now gathered around them. Ross was now lying on the floor, his body convulsing. The Doctor and Daron were crouched beside him, all colour drained from his face. "Has this ever happened before?" Her tone was authoritative.

"A couple of times, I think," Doran replied. "But not like this."

"Is there anywhere quiet we can take him?"

"There are some private rooms. I'll show you."

Away from all the commotion stood Arus' parents. She could understand them not wanting to get involved, but as Ross was being taken away to rest, the Doctor noted the look of fear in their eyes.

"Is he all right?" Doran looked down at Ross with concern. He had been carried to a private room, where he was laid down on a bed. Having drifted into an uneasy sleep, the convulsions had finally passed.

"I think he'll recover," the Doctor replied. "You two go back a long way, don't you?"

"Ever since we were children. We've looked out for each other."

She smiled at him. "Best friends, eh?"

"The best."

"And you say this has happened before?"

"I've only seen it happen twice," Doran confirmed. "But never as bad. After a few minutes he's usually fine."

"Any idea what triggers these attacks?" the Doctor wondered.

"No, but…"

"Go on, Doran," she urged him. "Anything could help."

"Well, you'll think it odd," he told her. "But Ross says it's like something's stuck at the back of his mind."

The Doctor was considering this, when Ross stirred fitfully. "No one remembers," he muttered. "No one remembers anything." Then he drifted back to sleep.

The Doctor looked to Doran for some meaning to this, but he just shrugged. She turned back to Ross, searching his troubled face for the elusive answer.

Another friend of Doran's entered, breaking the silence. "Hello, what's up with old Ross? A bit too much of the amber liquid?"

Doran fixed a smile. "Something like that."

"Look, you go back to the party, Doran," the Doctor suggested. "I'll look after things here."

"Are you sure?" Doran didn't like to leave his friend, but knew he could trust the Doctor.

"Well, you are the guest of honour," she pointed out. "They'll be missing you."

"Yeah, come on, Doran," his friend butted in, obviously the worse for wear. "Leave Rossie to sleep it off."

"Alright," he agreed. "And thanks, Doctor."

"Doctor? She's the prettiest looking doctor I've ever seen!" Doran promptly pushed his drunken friend out of the door, closing it firmly behind him. The Doctor returned to her patient, in the knowledge that she was blushing at the proffered compliment.

It was another ten minutes before Ross woke to find the Doctor checking his pulse. "What happened?"

"You had some sort of attack," she answered. "At least, that's what Doran called it."

"Oh. Sorry." Ross was immediately on the defensive. "I hope I didn't make a fool of myself."

"I think you're forgiven," the Doctor assured him. "But I'm interested in what causes these attacks. Daron said it was as if you had something stuck in the back of your mind."

"That's what it feels like," he told her.

"Only you can't remember what that something might be." It was said as a statement of fact, so Ross didn't argue. "While you slept, you said something like 'No one remembers anything'. Any idea what that could mean?"

He thought for a moment, then gave up. "I don't know," he sighed. "Is it important?"

"It might be," she replied. "It's just a matter of finding out." She thought back to her discovery of the body. "Tell me about Arus."

"He was all right," came the reply. "He didn't really stand out from the crowd, but I think he was liked because of that. Even his celebration was fairly quiet."

"And then what?"

Ross shrugged. "He disappeared not long after, and we never saw him again until the day you found him and brought him back. That was five solar days ago." He stared at the Doctor. "Do you think there's some connection between that and my seizures?"

"I don't think they're seizures." The Doctor was deep in thought. "No, if I had to make an informed guess, I'd say that there was something preventing you from voicing your true thoughts – buried deep in your sub-conscious. It could be some form of mind block, but I'll need to make sure."

"And what's that going to involve?"

She smiled. "Nothing for you to worry about. We'll arrange something tomorrow."

Ross sat up on the bed, feeling more like his usual self. "So what do we do now?"

She sighed. "Well, I hate to be a party pooper, but I think this might be a good time to leave."

They had to walk through the Great Hall to make their exit. Most had left by now, but the Doctor noticed Arus' parents were still lingering. She approached them. "I wanted to say how sorry I was about your son."

They stared at her, uncomprehending. She tried again. "Tonight must have been a terrible ordeal for you, especially with poor Ross passing out like that."

"Ah, Ross," the woman showed some signs of recognition towards him. "Are you feeling better?"

"Better now than before," he replied. "And I'm sorry too, about Arus."

"Arus?" There was a noticeable pause. "Oh y-yes. Thank you for your concern." The woman shrank back into her husband's arms. The conversation was clearly at an end.

As she and Ross made their excuses to leave, the Doctor was puzzled. Glancing back at them, there was something about Arus' parents that, for the moment, she couldn't quite put her finger on. 'Another piece of the puzzle,' she thought. 'But I can't see yet how any of it fits.'

She was glad of Ross' suggestion to escort her back to her lodgings. She liked his company, and was glad of an excuse to see that he was now fully recovered from his seizure. As for the evening itself, it had been fascinating on many levels. Even if she didn't agree with some of their customs, it did seem that, under Cardinal Machalan's benevolent rule, the Vestosians seemed to have found their place in the universe.

In no time at all they had arrived at the Doctor's apartment. "Well, thank you for escorting me back, Ro…" His mouth was suddenly upon hers, an action she had been totally unprepared for. She surprised herself by briefly responding to the kiss, then pulled back. "No, Ross. This isn't right." Her voice was firm, but gentle. Both of them were breathing hard.

Ross took a step back, confused. "But I thought…"

The Doctor's mind was in a whirl. In all the tight spots she had been in, this was one of the trickiest. "Ross, I do like you, and you're very sweet. But I'm old enough to be… well, never mind what I'm old enough to be. It just wouldn't be right." She felt the need to reassure him. "Look, I'm from a different culture. Physically we may look the same, but believe me, Vestosians and Gallifreyans are just so far removed from each other." She knew it was a pretty lame excuse, but caught on the spur of the moment, it was all she could think of to let Ross down gently without him feeling wretched.

As it was, he was looking down at his feet, clearly embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he apologised. "I suppose the atmosphere, the whole occasion, just got to me."

"It certainly was quite a party," she agreed, glad for a change of subject. "By the way, what happened to the guest of honour?"

Ross shrugged. "I don't know. It isn't like him to leave before the end of the event." On their way out, they had looked for Doran so that they could wish him well, but there had been no sign of him.

The Doctor stifled a yawn. "Well, after an evening like that, even I need some sleep." Wishing him a peaceful goodnight, she closed the door on Ross' departing form, and breathed a sigh of relief that such an awkward moment had passed without incident.

She pulled off her coat and headed towards the bathroom. "I think I need a shower – a cold one, preferably."

Doran was uncertain why he was here. The messenger had directed him to this place, but as to the reason, there was none that he could see.

"Welcome."

He turned around. "Who's there? Why am I here?"

"I am your Commander, Doran." The voice was strong, but enticing. "You have been summoned to these Chambers to accept enlistment into our great army of warriors."

"But I never – "

"No, you never expected it would be so soon, I know. But our time is coming, and we need willing volunteers like yourself." The voice paused. "You do want to join us, don't you Doran?"

"I…" Doran couldn't think straight. Part of him told him that this was madness, while another part of him, buried deep in his sub-conscious, was telling him that this was what he had dreamed of all along. "I'm not a soldier. I…"

"You must be thirsty," the voice intoned. "There is a glass of water to your left. Drink, and let your thirst be quenched."

Doran picked up the glass before him. It was full to the brim with water. The clearest, most glorious tasting water he had known. As he drank the last drop, any indecision that had remained was now gone. Of course he wanted to serve the Commander. To join the warriors.

Why would he want to do anything else?


	4. TARDISes and Test Tubes

TARDISes AND TEST TUBES

The Doctor awoke the next morning to a furious pounding at her door. "Doctor, come quickly." It was Ross, and he sounded worried.

She hurried to the door, pausing only to throw on a robe. "Hang on, I'm coming." After tying the cord around her waist, she opened the door. Ross' face was pale. "What is it, Ross? What's wrong?"

"It's Doran. He's gone missing."

"Is that all?" She sighed, leaning against the open door. "Well, it was quite a party last night. Maybe he hasn't been home yet."

"Well, someone has," Ross insisted. "Half his clothes are gone."

The Doctor was torn. Doran could have been sleeping off the effects of too much alcohol, but the look in Ross' eyes suggested something else. And there was still the mystery of this 'regiment'. "All right," she agreed. "Give me a few minutes to get dressed, and I'll meet you outside."

When they arrived at Doran's apartment, his bedroom door was open, with clothes strewn across the bed. "Is this how it normally looks?" the Doctor asked.

"No, it's well out of character," Ross replied. "You saw the main door was already open – that's not like him either." For the umpteenth time he checked through Doran's wardrobe. "There isn't much left here. Nothing to show he had ever existed."

Those last words ended in a choked sob, and the Doctor realised he was barely holding himself together. She needed to focus his mind on something. "Right. Let's take a look around the rest of the apartment, and see what we find."

"But w-what are we looking for?"

"Ah," the Doctor observed. "We'll know that when we find it." They began a painstaking search of each room in turn, the Doctor occasionally turning to Ross for advice – partly to get some more background on Doran, and also to keep his mind focussed.

It wasn't until they had been through the entire apartment that she remembered something. Hurrying back upstairs to the bedroom, her eyes alighted on a forgotten glass of water by the bedside table. Amongst all the clutter in Doran's room, this was the one thing left untouched. The dried ring of moisture confirming this as she picked up the glass. "Ross, tell me about the water," she asked, as he joined her.

"The water?"

"I want to know all you know about the city's water supply. All that you've been taught and anything else you can remember."

"Well, there's a saying that was drummed into us at an early age," Ross recalled. "'Water is life. Its purity cleanses and protects us.' We get a plentiful supply from the stream, and ever since then it's become a way of life for most people."

"But not for you?" the Doctor noted.

"Oh, I drink some every day, but not to the extent that everyone else does." Ross smiled weakly. "That's one reason to look forward to a birth celebration. At least water isn't the only thing to drink on those occasions."

The Doctor held the glass up to the light, staring at the liquid within. "I wonder…?" Searching inside one of her coat pockets, she pulled out a small test tube, and transferred a small quantity of water from the glass to the tube.

"Something isn't right here," she declared, as she affixed a cork stopper to the aperture. "Life usually operates in recognised patterns. If no one questions anything, it's only because no one knows any different."

"I understand the principle," Ross agreed.

"But then there's you, Ross. You know that something doesn't quite fit, but can't explain it. Not because you don't understand, but because something is compelling you to stick to that same pattern."

"Like this mind block you spoke of." Ross was catching on. "So what has happened to us, Doctor? Is it some kind of spell?"

"I think it's more basic than that," she noted. "As to the cause, well I don't know, not yet." She gazed intently at the contents of the test tube. "Maybe I'll find some answers from this."

Ross also looked at the contents of the phial. "What do you think it is, if it isn't water?"

"Let's find out." Her smile was both engaging and mischievous. "Have you been inside a TARDIS before?"

The TARDIS had been collected from its original landing spot, and deposited in a corner of the main courtyard. The Doctor was glad not to have to undertake another long walk, while Ross stared at the external blue shell. "Is this it, your ship?"

"That's her. What do you think?"

Ross wasn't quite sure how to answer that. "Isn't it going to be a bit cramped inside?"

The Doctor smiled. "Wait and see."

Inside the console room, Ross was temporarily lost for words. "It's dimensionally transcendental, and all the rest," the Doctor had quickly explained. Ross didn't quite understand, but chose to accept what he saw as fact.

"I'll examine that sample of water in a minute or two," she said. "Right now, we need to get your head sorted."

"Ah. Right." Ross remembered their conversation from last night, and was unsure just what he was getting into. But the Doctor's smile reassured him.

She led him away from the console room, down the adjoining corridor and into a room where a bed and two chairs stood. She positioned the chairs to face each other. "Now, sit down and relax." He did so, with the Doctor also seated, facing him. "Just look into my eyes."

"That's not hard to do," Ross dryly observed. When there was no reply, he remembered how serious this was, and duly settled back. Her eyes were a very deep blue, he noted. Then it seemed as though they filled the whole of his vision. Unblinking, he could not look away. And though she was just a foot away from him, the Doctor's voice floated distantly inside his head.

"Let your thoughts be free. Let the barriers in your mind be dissolved."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Ross, but his eyes were locked with hers. He could see a wall before him – an illusion of the mind, but it seemed all too real. And on the other side were thoughts and ideas long since repressed.

The Doctor could also see the wall, as she gently reached out to Ross' mind. Coaxing him, persuading him to free himself. But she dared not interfere too much in the process, knowing how fragile the mind could be. In his favour was the fact that Ross had known something wasn't right at the outset. If she had attempted such a process upon anyone else, there would have been more resistance, a reluctance to accept. The Doctor briefly wondered how many more of the Vestosians were affected in this way. Then she returned to the task in hand.

"Break down the wall, Ross. The bonds must be broken. Let your mind be released."

"Yes." It was barely a whisper.

They could both see the wall crumbling before them, as Ross' own thoughts broke down those that had been implanted. Soon there was nothing left of the wall, not even rubble. Ross' mind was now his own.

Gradually the Doctor released Ross from the meld, regulating his breathing rate back to normal. His body was shaking, and she placed a comforting arm around him. "Welcome back, Ross," she whispered. "Welcome back to your life."

He slumped forward in the chair, head in his hands, almost crying at the release. "I feel so confused… can't think straight."

She stood him up and guided him to the nearby bed. "Rest now," she told him. "You need time to recover." Ross was not in the strongest position to argue, and let himself be laid down onto the bed. Sleep came almost immediately.

As she left Ross to sleep, the Doctor's head was full of questions. What had subjected the Vestosians to this to this mind block, and how many more were affected? Something was decidedly rotten in the state of Vestos, and the Doctor was determined to root out the cause. Test tube in hand, she walked back down the TARDIS corridor in the direction of a nearby laboratory.

It was much later when Ross found her. "Hello, sleepyhead," she called, looking up from a microscope. "How do you feel?"

"Better than I have for a long time," he replied. "What did you do to my mind?"

"Something I shouldn't have." Her usual flippancy was replaced by a worried frown. "There are some things it's better for you not to know about. That way, if people ask questions, you can't tell them anything."

Ross immediately saw parallels with his own situation, but let that thought lie for the moment. "This TARDIS of yours is a marvel."

"I hope you didn't get lost," the Doctor said, her smile returning.

"That's the funny thing," Ross observed. "I've been strolling around a labyrinth of corridors for some time, but I always felt as though the TARDIS was guiding me here."

The Doctor looked up at the ceiling, as if sharing a private joke. "Yes, she does that sometimes." She turned back to her work.

Ross looked on. "Doctor, do you always do this sort of thing?"

"What, looking out for the oppressed, defeating the bad guys?"

"Well, yes."

She considered the question. "I've never really looked for trouble, but somehow it always seems to find me, especially when I try to avoid it." A faraway smile drifted across her face. "I suppose I must have a knack for getting involved."

Ross smiled. "You must have a full life, then."

"Mmm," the Doctor replied. "One of many."

The conversation tuned back to the water sample. "So, what have you found out?"

She looked up from the microscope. "Well, it appears to be water..."

"But…?" Ross prompted.

"But there are a few additives that don't belong there," she confirmed. "Once I've isolated those, I'll have a better understanding of what we're up against, and maybe start work on an antidote."

The last word meant nothing to Ross. "What's an anti… what you said?"

She smiled at the boy's innocence. "What I think we have here is a compound of sorts – something that is not purely water."

"That's what those additives are?"

"Exactly. Once I understand what they do, I can start to prepare an antidote – something that will reverse the effects."

Ross tried to find the right words. "Like a poultice, only more effective?"

The Doctor beamed. "Ross, I couldn't have put it better. We'll make a scientist of you yet. In the meantime," she said, changing the subject. "Tell me what you now remember."

Ross thought back to the previous evening, and the concerns he had tried to voice before now came easily to him. "It's all to do with the celebrations," he began. "I've attended a few of them, as we all know each other. The thing is… afterwards, the ones who the celebrations are for… well, they disappear."

'Like Doran,' the Doctor thought. "Go on."

"Well, it usually happens the day after – the celebration, I mean. It's like they've never existed."

"As though no one remembers them?"

"No, they're never forgotten," Ross insisted. "But no one ever asks where they've gone." Other memories came to him. "And there are other things - well, nothing that makes much sense."

"I'm listening," she prompted.

"Well, like Arus' child bearers," Ross said. "They never asked where he was, in all the time he was missing."

"Perhaps they were afraid for him," the Doctor suggested, "and didn't dare to speak out."

"No, nothing like that." He turned to face her, and it was as if a slow realisation was occurring. "It was as though they weren't aware they'd even had a son. As if he'd never been part of their lives."

She snapped her fingers. "That's it! That's what was bothering me last night." She looked at Ross. "When we spoke to Arus' parents, it was as you said before – as though he had never existed."

"I suppose they could have been mourning him," Ross suggested, though he wasn't really convinced himself.

"If it was just that, they would have been more open, talked about him," the Doctor pointed out. "But last night, it was as if his name was alien to them." Then she recalled. "No wonder his mother drew away from us – she must have thought we were a bit dippy."

"So why were they there?"

"Because every parent carries a birth memory," the Doctor reasoned. "Even the best conditioning can't wipe out something so deeply ingrained. That's partly why you remembered Doran this morning, because you're both close friends."

"While everyone else forgets." The enormity of the situation hit home, as Ross began to realise how bad things had become. "And if this conditioning is left unchecked, then even the strongest memories will be gone."

"One thing I still can't grasp," the Doctor wondered, "is what this regiment is for. Are there wars here?"

"What regiment?" Ross asked. "There hasn't been a war on Vestos for centuries."

"Now that is interesting." The Doctor began mulling over events; picking over some and discarding others, until she had a clear picture in her mind. "Remember what I said before, about some things being better not to know about? That's what's happened with this regiment. Whatever it is, it's only recognised by a select few." She turned to Ross. "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, Doctor," he readily agreed.

"First we need to finish producing the antidote," she explained. "Then there's someone I need you to contact. I don't want to approach them openly in case they shy away, so I'm relying on you to act as my agent."

Ross had arrived at the meeting point in good time. He just hoped that he didn't look too conspicuous. Eventually, the person he had been waiting for approached him. "Hello Ross, what's this all about?"

"I was starting to wonder if you would turn up," he remarked.

"Well, you know how it is here. Never a moment's peace. Though I must say your message was very mysterious. Not in any trouble are you?"

"No, he isn't. But you might be, Dr Nassus." The portly man turned to find the Doctor leaning against the wall, her arms folded. "I think you're in more trouble than you can possibly handle."


	5. Confessions and Revelations

CONFESSIONS AND REVELATIONS

Nassus stared from one to the other, his eyes betraying the fear inside him. "Well, it's good to see you again, Doctor. But I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, I rather think you do," she corrected.

"There is something wrong here on Vestos," Ross chipped in.

"Ross, I can't think what fantasies this woman has been filling your head with, but…" He shrank back as the young man stared at him, accusingly.

"She has freed me," Ross told him. "I know that our minds have been clouded, and that you are to blame for this."

"Blame, yes," the Doctor noted. "But not a willing player, I think." She turned to the quaking medical examiner. "Nassus, to coin an old Earth saying, I believe there's something in the water. Something that is not beneficial to the people here." She could see that Nassus was troubled. "But I think you already knew about that."

He drew a shaking hand across his forehead, his façade of innocence at last dropped. "I was assured it was for the best, that I was providing a vital service to our people."

"Go on," the Doctor pressed.

"I was approached by a man calling himself the Commander. He wanted someone qualified in medicine to induce certain biological changes in our metabolism. So the simplest way was to change the structure of the water."

"Just as you suggested, Doctor," Ross remembered.

She nodded. "It had to be someone with a medical background. Someone who would have automatic access to the medical records of everyone on Vestos, so that they could regulate the required doses - male and female, the young and old, and from child to adult. You were the logical candidate, Nassus."

"By the time I realised what the end result would be, I was in too deep," he went on. "I wish I'd never got involved."

"But you did." Ross was bitter. "What about Arus? What happened to him?"

Nassus hung his head in shame. "He was one of a few whose physiognomy couldn't accept the changes the toxin induced. He became unstable, his intestinal fluids contracted – what you saw as malnutrition, Doctor. Then the overriding desire to serve drove him out of the city before I could stop him."

"Which is where I came in." The Doctor's face was grim. "Nassus, you're a man of science. You do realise that everyone has all but lost their minds to this process?"

"You think I don't know that?" He was visibly shaking now. "But I have no authority. I can't instigate any change, not after all this time."

"Yes you can." The Doctor produced a large bottle, filled with a clear solution. "This is an antidote to all the years of tragedy that has taken place here." She handed the bottle to him. "Not many people get a second chance, Nassus. I rather think this could be yours, if you're willing to take it."

Ross couldn't believe it. "You're trusting him with the antidote, after all that's happened?"

"It's because of what's happened that I think we can trust him," the Doctor answered.

Nassus stared at the bottle in his hands. "But I don't understand. What's an anti…"

She offered him a winning smile. "Don't worry, Ross will explain it - later." She considered their next move. "Now tell me, who is this Commander?"

"I don't know," Nassus replied truthfully. "I've never see him, only heard his voice when summoned."

"Summoned? Where?"

"To the Chambers of War, beneath the city."

"And what about this regiment?" Ross asked.

"Regiment?" Nassus almost laughed at the irony. "More like an army of warriors. The Commander has been steadily recruiting new members. They'll be down there, waiting." He looked at the two of them, as if silently imploring them not to go. "They've been waiting for a long time."

"And would you be willing to show us the way to this Chamber?" the Doctor asked.

"No! No, you're asking too much of me, Doctor." Nothing would persuade him. The Doctor and Ross could see that Nassus was truly afraid.

"In that case, you'd better draw us a map," the Doctor decided, "because the Chambers of War will have to be our next port of call."

A long, winding set of stone steps led the two friends down to the lower levels of the city. They followed the map closely, avoiding many of the meandering passageways that led nowhere. Eventually the Doctor and Ross arrived at a massive pair of heavy wooden doors – locked. "Well, my sonic screwdriver won't work on these – despite having three settings. Is there another way in, Ross?"

He shook his head. "According to the map, this is the only route."

Annoyed at having come so far, the Doctor pushed against the doors in frustration – and almost over balanced as they swung open to the chamber beyond. The Doctor and Ross exchanged a look, realising the implications. "Those doors were locked before!"

Ross nodded in agreement. "Do you think we're expected?"

"I'm certain of it." She looked at the young man. "Are you willing to go on?"

Ross was determined. "I've come this far. I'm not going to back out now."

She slapped him on the shoulder. "Good for you - because I wasn't really looking forward to going in on my own."

As they walked on, their progress was being observed from a discreet distance. "Make light of this while you can, Doctor. Very soon you will not have much to laugh about."

The way ahead was dimly lit by rows of flaming torches dotted against the walls. Brave as he was, Ross took comfort in holding the Doctor's hand for some form of reassurance. "We'll be alright," she promised him.

"But what will we find there?" he wondered.

"I think you'd better grab one of those torches," she suggested, leaving the question unanswered. "I can't see much light ahead of us."

Ross did so, the flame burning against the darkness as they walked on.

After a few minutes, the path opened out into a vast, round chamber. Despite no natural light, there was a glow emanating from somewhere. After a moment, the Doctor realised. "This place must have been hewn out from the rock itself, and the walls are phosphorus. See the streaks of light from the stone?"

"There's something else, Doctor." She turned at Ross' warning. It hadn't been evident before, but now they could see – surrounding them, against each wall, was the warrior army. Then the two friends saw that not one of the soldiers had moved, not one muscle. "What's wrong with them?" Ross asked. "Why don't they move?"

"Because I don't think they're fully alive." The Doctor walked around in a complete circle, looking at each group of soldiers in turn, touching their faces. "Their skin is warm to the touch. I think they're in some form of stasis – frozen like statues until they receive their orders."

"They're like… like walking dead." Ross could hardly take it in. Now he stared at them more closely, and recognised some of them. "I know these people – or knew them, anyway." He shook his head. "But they would never agree to this."

"You've got to remember, Ross," the Doctor insisted. "Once that toxin entered their bloodstream, they had no control over what they wanted to do. The choice was taken away from them."

"But these are my friends."

"They were," the Doctor corrected. "See how stiff their bodies are. How dull their eyes have become. See… oh no."

"What is it? Who…?" Then he recognised the warriors' newest recruit. "Oh no, not Doran." Tears began to well up as he stared at the blank, unmoving face of his friend. "Doran, it's me. Can't you hear me? Can't y-you…"

She couldn't let him break down now. "Ross, you've got to snap out of it. I know it's hard, but I'm relying on you."

"I know. I'm sorry, but Doran… he's been like a brother to me."

"But look at him now. Does he know you – is there any spark of recognition?"

Ross shook his head, realising the truth. "But why all this?"

The Doctor sighed. "For power. To show all of Vestos that only one man is fit to lead them. And if they show any sign of rebelliousness, then… well, now you know."

"How very succinctly put." The two friends turned at the sound of that voice, as out from the shadows stepped Cardinal Machalan. "Hold them!" he commanded, snapping his fingers.

At his order, four soldiers detached themselves from their groups, advancing on the Doctor and Ross. "Don't struggle," she instructed her friend as hands reached out, locking onto their arms.

She studied Machalan. "I had a feeling you were behind this."

The Cardinal gave a slight bow. "I might have expected you, Doctor, to uncover my secret. But Ross…" There seemed genuine disappointment. "I thought you would be the one to understand."

"What is there not to understand?" Ross was angry. "You take our people from their homes, presumably with promises of wealth and power – but they are the things you want only for yourself."

Machalan shook his head. "You think I desire power, but you are both quite wrong. My only goal has been to watch over Vestos, to ensure the purity of our race." He held up a glass phial. "Alchemy is a wonderful science, and I have learned much over so many years. The fluid contained in this tube, for example, is a drug of my own invention. Ingested over time, one becomes compliant, susceptible to suggestion, and then… I had to convince Dr Nassus that this was for the good of Vestos. And it is." He gazed at the liquid in the phial, almost in reverence. "To think, how such a small thing can create such peace and tranquillity."

"In other words they become your toys," the Doctor observed. "To do your will."

"A trifle over dramatic," Machalan stated. "But effectively true."

"But why? Why all this when you already preside over Vestos as their protector?"

Machalan shot the Doctor a look of disgust. "Because our society was in danger of becoming corrupt. My children can be so easily led, so eager to try new things. And it is that wanderlust which must be curbed."

Ross looked to the Doctor. "What is he talking about?"

"Let him finish," she replied quietly.

"You think I enjoy those pitiful celebrations of birth?" Machalan continued. "I have to bear witness to the excesses of alcohol, and much worse. But while I am forced to tolerate these occasions, they do serve as an indicator – a guide as to who can be rescued. To be saved from themselves." He gazed upward, raising his arms to the heavens. "I am so much more than Vestos' protector. I am their salvation."

Ross stared at the immobile army. "And this is your great dream, Machalan? An army of zombies?"

"They will aid me in my great plan," he replied. "I have saved my people from their own immorality. But I must go on, beyond the city, and beyond this world."

His words confirmed what the Doctor had thought. Beneath his calm exterior, Cardinal Machalan was now quite mad.


	6. Process and Elimination

PROCESS AND ELIMINATION

Ross continued to stare at the rows of soldiers lining the walls of the Chamber. Was this to have been his own fate? "Look at them," the Doctor urged him. "This isn't what you would want for Vestos." She pressed home her advantage. "If you serve Machalan, you will have no freedom, no individuality. No sense of purpose."

The ruler of Vestos spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. "Ross, I offer you a life without care or responsibility."

"Or emotion."

Machalan glared at the Doctor's interruption, but Ross' decision was made. "I would not serve you," he spat. "Thanks to the Doctor, I can see your words for the lies that they are." He gazed at the soldiers surrounding them. "They don't serve you willingly. Instead you control them."

"As I shall soon control you." Machalan advanced toward Ross with the potion.

"No!" The Doctor struggled against the grip of the mindless soldiers, but her strength was no match for theirs. "Leave him alone."

"That I cannot do," Machalan replied. "He has become a thorn in my side thanks to you. But no more." He grasped Ross' chin, forcing his mouth open as he poured a cupful of the potion down his throat.

"Ross, no!" But the potion had already taken effect. His mind was gone.

The Doctor angrily turned to face Machalan. "You've just played your last card."

"On the contrary, Doctor," he replied. "I have one last hand to play."

He had followed them at a discreet distance. At one point he had briefly considered making a run for it, but with his ungainly frame, he knew he couldn't have got very far.

Nassus stared at the bottle of liquid in his hand. The Doctor had said it was an antidote. The word was unfamiliar, but Ross had quickly explained its meaning before he and the Doctor had left for the Chambers. His faith and his belief in her was enough to convince Nassus of his next course of action.

He had seen Machalan force the potion into Ross' mouth, and for Nassus that had been the turning point – Machalan, the unseen face of the Commander he had served. And though he had administered such doses to other recruits many times before, he was now sickened. Forced to accept the terrible cost, a cost that he himself had been a part of. But this was different. Ross was a friend, and Nassus knew he had to act.

The Doctor lay unconscious on a stone slab, in a small anteroom housing a selection of medical equipment. Machalan believed that patience was a virtue, and quietly waited for the Doctor to regain consciousness. He had been reluctant to have her rendered senseless, but there was no other option. As she awoke he regarded the helpless figure with some delight. "Well, Doctor," he smiled. "I shall be glad to be rid of you."

She returned the smile. "Don't be too sure, Machalan – oh, my head." Then the Doctor felt and saw the ropes binding her. No way of loosening them. "Where's Ross?"

"In our processing area," the Cardinal replied. "All new recruits have to be processed to ensure that any unwelcome brain activity lies dormant."

"I see. But why go to all this trouble on my account? I was hardly in a position to prove your involvement until now."

"Perhaps," he conceded. "But I dared not take the risk. You were too close to finding out the truth. And now that you have… well, at least now there will be no further interference."

"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed. "You think no one will notice I've gone?"

Machalan shrugged. "You arrived unexpectedly. Who's to say that you didn't leave in the same way?"

"Ah," the Doctor nodded. "You may have a point."

"Plus, within a few days, the effects of the toxin will ensure that no one will have any lasting memory of your visit. You will soon be forgotten." He busied himself with some medical instruments. "But do not concern yourself with such matters, my dear Doctor. Look to your own predicament – though not for much longer," he added.

It had been relatively easy for Nassus to gain access to the medical area. What had not been so straightforward was convincing the security officer that he should be there. "Please, I explained all of this before. I have to make sure that the soldiers are fit and healthy."

The guard shrugged. "They look all right to me."

"And what do you base that diagnosis on?" Nassus wished he felt as brave as he sounded. "Do you have sufficient medical training to give a clean bill of heath to these men?"

"Well, I…"

"No, I thought not," Nassus continued. "I just hope that you're prepared to take the blame if Cardinal Machalan comes looking for a scapegoat."

At the mention of Machalan's name, the guard gave in. "All right, do what you have to do."

"Thank you." Nassus turned on his heel and hurried to where the new recruits where to be processed – where he knew Ross would be.

The Doctor fought to make Machalan see sense. "But don't you see? Before you took their minds, your people had a purpose. Their lives were worth living."

"But their lives will still have purpose," Machalan reasoned. "They will serve me unconditionally." She struggled against the ropes, as he loomed ever closer to her. "Under different circumstances, we might have found some common ground. As it is…" he began to prepare a stazer probe. "I do regret the taking of a life, especially one as unique as yours. But needs must."

'Why does he have to sound so calm about everything?' the Doctor thought. 'At least with Daleks or Cybermen you know where you stand.'

The probe, normally used to correct abnormalities in the brain, was now about to erase the Doctor's mind. As the Cardinal leaned across her prone form, he barely heard the footfall behind him – but almost certainly felt the solidness of a rifle butt connect with the back of his head. The probe fell from Machalan's grip, landing to the side of the Doctor's head. Then he fell forward, and slid down to the floor.

The Doctor looked up in surprise. "Ross! Are you all right?"

"I am now, thanks to your antidote," he replied, quickly untying the ropes. "Nassus is now administering it to all the soldiers under Machalan's control." Ross helped her up. "How are you?"

"All the better for seeing you." Though having displayed a veneer of calm up to now, she was greatly relieved to still be very much alive. "Come on, let's go and free your people."

"Noooo!" Machalan hauled himself up from the floor and pushed past them. "You shall not destroy my dream. I shall awaken my army." On unsteady feet he staggered off in the direction of the main Chamber.

"Obviously I didn't hit him hard enough," Ross cursed.

"Obviously," the Doctor agreed. "I think we'd better get after him, don't you?" At a nod from Ross, the two friends hurried out.

Machalan's calm demeanour was shattered, his eyes wild with the imaginings of a madman. His head pounded as he ran through the winding passageways. Glancing back, he could see Ross and the Doctor not far behind. All he could focus on was his beloved army, handpicked over many years. They would save him, they would restore order.

Rounding a corner, he came face to face with row upon row of soldiers, now awakened. At their head stood a recognisable portly frame. "Nassus," he gasped. "Thank the stars. I knew you could be relied upon." He looked back, pointing an accusing finger at the Doctor and Ross, now just a few feet away. "Rebellion must be broken. Our army must crush all resistance, starting with those two."

Nassus stood his ground, unmoving. "You think I would serve you now, after all you have done to these people? Do you seriously think anyone would follow you?"

Machalan stared, a look of incomprehension on his face. "But I gave you all you could ever want!"

"And I was left with nothing!" Nassus spat. "Not even a shred of dignity. You even took that away from me."

The words seemed to wash over Machalan. "What care I for your precious dignity. At least I still have my army. They will follow me."

"No," came a voice. "We will not." A figure detached itself from the main body of soldiers, to stand alongside Nassus. It was Damon. "We no longer bend to your will," he announced. "Our minds are free again, our thoughts are our own."

"No!" Machalan insisted, denying the truth. "This is treason! You are mine to command!"

Damon's reply sent a chill through the Cardinal's heart. "Not anymore."

It was as though a silent order had been given. A line of Vestosians, no longer solders, moved toward Machalan, encircling him. Another line joined them, the circle becoming larger. All of them stared down at the one who had been their leader.

To Machalan, it was as though all the demons he had believed vanquished had now returned to haunt him. Hands began to snatch at him, tearing at his clothes. Turning this way and that, he could find no escape. As each successive line joined the circle, pawing at him, Machalan fell to his knees, screaming. "I am your protector! Your saviour! Your role is to serve me!" But no one spoke, the stillness only broken by Machalan's outbursts. In desperation he turned to the Doctor. He could see her, standing next to Ross outside the circle, watching the scenario being played out before her. "Please," he begged. "Help me!"

But the Doctor remained still, her expression unreadable. After a moment she turned away, her footsteps echoing on the stone floor as she and Ross left the chamber in silence.

No one ever spoke of Cardinal Machalan's eventual fate. And the Doctor had no wish to know.

It was some days before the antidote could be deemed completely successful. The Doctor had devoted the time to making fresh batches, in case more were needed. Eventually, all the Vestosians were either cured, or well on the road to recovery.

Later, she and Ross were standing outside the TARDIS. "Well, I'm afraid this is goodbye, Ross. It's time I wasn't here." Her smile was one of regret.

"Do you have to go?" he asked. "You'd be welcome to stay for as long as you wished."

The Doctor considered the offer, and was tempted. "In all my travels, through all the planets and galaxies I've visited, your people have made me the most welcome."

"But?" After all the time he'd spent with her, Ross knew there had to be a 'but'.

"But I can't stay. There's still so much to see out there, and I can't afford to waste a second."

Ross wasn't so easily swayed. "I could come with you."

At this unexpected offer, the Doctor hesitated. But only for a moment. "No I'm sorry, Ross. I can't take you with me. You have a life here, and your people need someone strong and reliable to turn to, especially now that Cardinal Machalan has become 'indisposed.'"

Ross was dumbfounded. "You mean, me? Take over all this?"

"Why not? The people know and trust you, and I can't think of anyone else who's a better candidate for the job." She took Ross' hand and shook it in farewell.

He held onto her hand, pulling her to him. "Well, if you're set on leaving, I don't suppose there's any chance of a goodbye kiss?"

"Ross!" There was a hint of warning in her voice, but Ross just smiled innocently. "Oh, all right," she said, giving in. "I don't suppose I can really refuse." This time there was no resistance on her part as the two of them embraced, their kiss being one of farewell.

After a moment they reluctantly pulled away, both knowing that they would never meet again. The Doctor said nothing until she had inserted the key in the TARDIS lock and opened the door. She turned to the young man. "Look after this planet, Ross. After the last couple of days I almost feel I have a vested interest in it."

The door closed behind her, and immediately the air was filled with the sound of an ancient engine of time, as the TARDIS slowly faded away.

Ross stared at the bare patch of ground where the ship had stood. He knew he would not see her like again.

Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor busied herself around the banks of controls surrounding the hexagonal console. A playful smile glanced across her mouth as an image of Ross came into her mind. Then she shook her head, as if to rid herself of the memory. It didn't do to dwell on what might have been, she realised. With a sigh, the Doctor left the console to its own devices, and headed off to the bathroom.

A cold shower was very much the order of the day.


	7. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

She strolled around the console room, pleased at how things had turned out. New co-ordinates were already laid in for her next journey. She wondered briefly what lay in store, and looked forward to the thrill and the uncertainty. Then she remembered how it had been in the beginning; Emma had left early on, and it had been hard travelling without a companion. The first time that she had ever been alone.

And so it had remained. She had journeyed through time and space; pit her skill and wits against all manner of monsters, megalomaniacs and mad scientists. Life was good.

She paused before a free standing long mirror. She wasn't vain, but she admired her shoulder length blonde hair and her overall appearance. "At last!" came a voice from behind her. She turned slowly, noting the man standing next to the console. He was of medium build, dressed in matching suit and tie, with fair hair. "You haven't been the easiest person to find."

She shrugged. "It couldn't be helped. There was an emergency on Vestos."

"Yes, I heard." His voice was stern. "Did you have to involve that boy?"

"Oh, honestly!" She exclaimed. "You're such a stuffed shirt! I don't know how I put up with you."

He offered a half smile that didn't sit easily. "It's good to see you again."

"And you." She returned the smile, almost reaching out her hand to shake his, and then withdrew it. That way lay a future she had no wish to return to. Not yet.

He seemed to sense her discomfort. "You know it's time."

"Does it have to be?" she implored. "I've been able to achieve so much. I can't surrender this life now. I just can't, not with so much left to do."

"You knew this would only be temporary, until the balance could be corrected," he reminded her.

"Yes, I know. It's just... well, I've become used to this way of life. For the first time I actually have a life, instead of an existence. If I hadn't merged with him at the exact moment..."

"They recognise the debt they owe," he assured her. "You won't be forgotten."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" She could feel the anger building up inside her. "You don't know what it's like to have a life. You just obey the summons, and do as you're told. But I've seen a different way to live. I'm not ready to go back to the old ways."

He sighed. He knew this would be difficult for her, but he had to make her understand. "They have found someone."

She reeled in shock. "No! They can't have. It's too soon." Anger turned to fright, as she ran out from the console room, down the many winding corridors, desperate to fight the inevitable. It wasn't fair, she told herself.

She had willingly taken on the mantle of being the Doctor, with the freedom to travel through all of time and space, and sometimes beyond. She had visited worlds unknown to her and had gained so much in experience and knowledge. And now they wanted to take all of that away from her. The tears began to flow now, but she didn't care. This was something else she had learned to appreciate – the value of emotion. She would not surrender, not when there was so much to lose.

She ran. Not with any sense of direction, but just to put some distance between herself and… she turned a corner, only to find him there, waiting for her. Doubling back, she threw open the nearest door, and dived in.

She found herself back in the console room. Even the TARDIS seemed to be against her. He was there, waiting patiently. She was breathing hard from the exertion of running. And she liked it. "You can't force me to return," she pointed out.

"No," he admitted. "But you must see that this could not have gone on indefinitely?"

She was calmer now, but still angry. "Why do you have to be right all the time?"

He seemed surprised by the question. "Because I am," he replied.

She stared at him for a moment, unable to speak. Then she began to shake, and held her sides as though in pain. Finally, when she could stand it no more, she let out a huge scream of laughter that lasted all of two minutes. Through it all, the man stood silently, not saying a word, which made her laugh all the more.

At last, she recovered her composure, took a few deep breaths, and was calm. "I'm sorry. It's just… well, you're so unruffled by it all. Nothing phases you, does it?" She sighed, finally accepting the inevitable. "So, they really have found someone?"

He nodded. "It took some time, but they seem ready to engage the process. All you have to do is allow it to happen, and then..."

"And then I'll be back where I belong," she finished for him. "Waiting for the next summons."

"One has already been issued," he revealed, "to take effect immediately."

"I see." She looked around the console room for what would probably be the last time. "I shall miss you, old girl. You've been good to me." She turned back to the man, her... companion. "All right, I'm ready."

As if waiting for its cue, the TARDIS began to pulse with light. Beams of energy spun around the woman, shaping themselves into a swirling cocoon around her. Then the cocoon split in two, as a new figure emerged, detaching itself from the first. The different aspects of each one soon became apparent. The woman had only changed superficially - her hair was longer but her clothes were now of a shimmering blue. The second was male – tall and thin faced, with a pale complexion. His clothes were dark. A long frock coat, winged shirt collar and black neck tie. As the pulse of the lights began to ebb and fade, the man slumped to the floor as the woman stepped forward to join her companion.

Her composure was markedly different from before – more confident and self-assured. "Will he recover?" she asked, concerned.

"Completely," came the reply. "He may be a little animated at first, but he'll soon settle down."

She knelt down to examine his face. "He seems familiar, somehow."

The man held out his hand. "It's time to go."

She stood up and reached for his hand. As their fingertips touched, an energy portal opened up before their eyes, a myriad of stars stretching before them. Without another word they stepped through, the portal closing behind them.

The new Doctor lay on the floor, still recovering from his latest regeneration. It had not been as bad as in previous times, he noted. Physically he was fine, though his mind was still reorientating itself.

But one thought forced itself to the front of his mind. A name, rolling around in his head, until he could form and voice the word.

"Sapphire?"

THE END


End file.
